


Tired Not Retired

by mauvera



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Au where they’re from the same universe, Gen, Recovery, and kinda depressed, but spiders love an support each other in this house, it gets happy i promise, peter is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 01:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17715440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mauvera/pseuds/mauvera
Summary: Spider-Man was exhausted. Or perhaps Peter B Parker was. It was hard to tell any kind of difference these days.But they were tired. They’d been saving the city for far too many years for it to be anything other than habit when he pulled the suit on in the morning.So why was it that when some new, naive little kid starts showing up at crime scenes, desperately in need of help, does Peter find himself starting to care again about what being Spider-Man truly means?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkyGem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyGem/gifts).



> Major thanks to skygem for letting me steal this wonderful idea and rework it. I definitely recommend checking out the original post as well :)  
> http://skygemspeaks.tumblr.com/post/181670412468/spiderverse-au-where-miles-and-peter-b-parker-are

Peter B. Parker was tired. 

 

No. He was  _ exhausted _ . 

 

It was the kind of exhaustion that settled deep within his bones and would never truly leave. He could feel it burrow beneath his skin over the years, digging its way into his veins and slowing him down. It was the kind of tired that never truly left, no matter how long he slept at night he knew he would awake with an unsettling heaviness. A weight that crushed him. A force that he had to fight against every day to make sure he still got up. And he did. 

 

He always got back up. 

 

He would wake, stare around the dingy, stained walls of his apartment and sigh a sigh so deep and tiring that he’d have to lie back down until the screech of his alarm roused him from his catatonic state again. Then it was a matter of duty for him to dress, to put back on the same suit he’d worn for two decades and climb out of the same window he’d been climbing out of for the last year. He missed his old window, the one close to town, the one that looked out over a nice view of a nice neighbourhood and was framed by nice curtains. That was a window he would leave when the only sounds to be heard were Mary Jane’s deep, sleepy breaths. 

 

His new window was quiet. 

 

Lucky for him, if one could still call anything in his life lucky, the streets were loud. They were bustling and roaring. They shouted and screamed and yelled and cheered. The streets of New York were irrevocably, unshakably alive and sometimes, for just a moment here and there, Peter actually felt like he still belonged amongst them. 

 

“Spider-Man!” Came shouts from below. A chorus of voices that would greet him no matter where he went. Perhaps it was because by that point, after twenty years on the job, Spider-Man was as much of a part of New York as the terrible traffic and the steady flow of villains trying to take over the world. 

 

Sometimes he would wave back at the people who called to him. Though that practice had been dwindling in the past few years. More often than not he ignored them because he was  _ tired.  _ He was so  _ tired _ . 

 

The people of New York knew that already of course. They’d seen his decline. They’d watched him lose the bounce in his step, or heard the witty quips get caught in his throat. Hell, if he didn’t wear a mask he was sure they would’ve seen the light slowly draining from his eyes. 

 

“Help me!” The scream drew Peter from the swirling depths of his own mind, instinct more than anything encouraged him to turn midair and return the way he’d come. He swung his whole body to the left, curving around a tight corner with such practiced ease it would almost be called graceful if it weren’t for the way he carried himself; far too heavily, far too tiredly. “Help me, please!” The voice begged again even as Peter rapidly closed the distance between them. 

 

It was a man, tall, lanky, probably the type who unironically wore ugly Christmas sweaters. His voice shook with terror and fear froze his every muscle in place as he stared down at the woman holding a gun to his temple. More importantly than either of those two though was the child. A girl of about four stood cowering behind the man, no doubt his daughter. Her dark skin complimented so nicely by red hair. Not as red as MJ’s, Peter couldn’t help but observe even as he squashed any thoughts that might relate to MJ or children. 

 

He had a job to do. 

 

He landed at the mouth of the alley with a thump. Much harder than he’d meant to but maybe if no one had paid that much attention he could pass it off as all being part of the distraction. 

 

“‘Scuse me ma’am but I think you might’ve dropped something.” His mouth worked on autopilot, providing him with a steady stream of one liners and shitty jokes he could use as a diversion while he scoped out the scene. One attacker, two civilians, one Spider-Man. Easy. 

 

“And what’s that?” The woman sneered at him, the pistol in her hand never wavering from its place mere inches from the guy’s face. 

 

“This.” He said, whipping his hand out faster than she could blink. A web shot forward, ripping the gun from her fingers and discarding the weapon somewhere behind him. 

 

“You’ll pay for that you useless fuc-“ 

 

“Language.” He cautioned, a small grin appearing on his lips as she struggled to swear violently at him while her mouth was webbed shut. “There are little ones present.”

 

Peter stepped back after webbing the rest of her up before she got some brilliant idea like coming at him armed with nothing but her own fists. Then he turned to the father daughter duo who remained frozen still in shock. Well, they were frozen right until the little girl bounded forward, a smile as wide as her whole face plastered on while she leapt up to him, wrapping her tiny arms around his knees, which was as high as she could reach. 

 

“Thank you Spidey-Man!” She cooed. 

 

Peter let himself be hugged, a rare moment of actual human contact that wasn’t just him slamming his fist into someone’s face for once. His hand drifted down to ruffle her hair which rewarded him with another blinding smile. 

 

“Yeah, no problem kid. Just doing my-“ 

 

All at once too many things happened. Peter noted the age old feeling of a tingling down his neck that screamed at him to grab the girl and turn. Meanwhile the woman he’d just apprehended somehow managed to get out of the webs and retrieve her gun which she’d just shot at the little girl. How she’d gotten out probably had to do with a new man that had arrived on the scene, a knife in his left hand and another pistol in his right. The girl’s father shouted an incoherent warning but there wasn’t any time to do more than shield the girl with Peter’s own body as he awaited the familiar feeling of a bullet sinking into his flesh. 

 

He waited. 

 

It never came. 

 

Pushing the girl back into her father’s open arms, Peter whirled around to find the man and woman glaring angrily at yet another figure who had entered the fray. Although no one’s attention was on him at that moment all Peter could feel was his Spidey Sense screaming at him. But he couldn’t figure out why. He could  _ always _ figure out why. After twenty years on the job he surely must’ve figured out his own goddamn body. But there he was, standing dumbfounded in an alleyway because of some new intruder. 

 

“Uh hey,” dear god. The intruder was a kid. No grown adult’s voice managed to sound so naive and innocent with only one word. “You guys should maybe try not doing crime y’know.” Said the small infant. The same small infant who had just kicked the woman’s gun out of her hand and was currently standing there wearing,  _ no way,  _ he was wearing  _ knock off Spider-Man merch _ . 

 

Peter shook his head to clear whatever new thoughts had just exploded into his mind, instead he used the kid’s entrance as a perfect diversion to web the man’s weapons away from him and punch the pair of criminals out before securing them as tightly, and possibly a little bit vindictively, as possible. 

 

With every move Peter struggled to think of what to say to the kid. There was something off about him. Something that set Peter’s whole body on edge like his powers didn’t know how to comprehend his presence. He knew all three conscious occupants of the alleyway were staring at him. No doubt the father daughter duo were wondering when Peter was going to address his supposed sidekick. And the sidekick himself was standing there with such falsified confidence that Peter was sure he must look ready to run at any moment under that mask. But he didn’t. He stayed. 

 

He stayed while Peter called the police and he stayed while the father and daughter thanked him -  _ them  _ \- again. He stayed until they were the only two left. 

 

“Who are you?” Peter asked, leaning casually against the wall both to seem like he had the situation under control and also because the day had already gone on long enough and all he wanted was to crawl back into bed and pass out. 

 

“Me? Uh, well… I’m Spider-Man.” The kid said. 

 

“Bzz.” Peter droned, “Wrong answer buddy. I’m not sure if you noticed but I am the one,  _ and only _ , Spider-Man.” 

 

The kid watched as he gestured to himself, oddly feeling like he was being judged by those youthful eyes. 

 

“Yeah, well now there’s two. I can do all the same stuff as you, I got bit by this freaky spider that this science lab was working on then the next day I woke up and-“

 

The kid thankfully shut up when Peter raised one hand tiredly. “Woah. Hold up there bud. I don’t need to hear about your origin story okay? I’m Spider-Man. You’re a kid. I’m going to go save New York again and you’re going back to your house to go do school work, be a normal child, and forget this ever happened.”

 

Peter was a busy guy. Well, he was an exhausted guy that already struggled to leave the house each day, so there was no way in hell that he could afford to let some child follow him around just to get himself killed. He dragged himself back up into a standing position and walked past the kid. One hand raised to shoot a web that’d send him back in the direction of his shitty apartment when the kid’s quiet but determined voice piped up behind him. 

 

“I can’t be normal.” Peter gazed back at him with mild curiosity, “I’m different now. I’ve got all these powers I don’t know what to do with,” the kid looked down at his own hands like they were entirely foreign to him. Peter vaguely remembered doing the exact same thing, staring at his body that had just changed shape overnight, struggling to understand how he suddenly fit into this whole new existence. “I don’t get to be a normal kid. I’m stronger, and faster, and weirdly sticky and I can  _ help  _ people Spider-Man. And I need you to teach me how. Please. Show me how to be Spider-Man. Show me what I’m supposed to do with all of this.”

 

Peter took one final look at the boy before him, couldn’t be older than fifteen  really, around when Peter had gotten his own powers. 

 

“Kid, I’ve got one piece of advice for you.” His chest tightened uncomfortably when he saw the way the boy snapped to attention, looking at Peter like he’d have all the answers he’d need. “Get out. Get out while you still can.”

 

He turned too quickly to watch the boy’s face drop and found himself already swinging through the air. His every move taking twice as much energy as usual as he found himself weighted down by an uneasy feeling of regret and of course the innate heaviness that was his life. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Kid!” Peter heard his own voice shouting. “Get out of here!”

 

While his attention had been captured for all of one second after catching sight of that child back in his store bought Spider-Man costume, Peter had managed to leave an opening for the Lizard to punch him halfway across the street.

 

“Man, are you alright?” Peter groaned at the sound of the kid’s voice. Blearily he let one eye open to find the kid leaning over him concernedly.

 

“Yup. I’m just dandy. Now go home.” Peter heaved himself back up, ignoring the hand that the kid offered him. “This is dangerous stuff and you’ve got a chance to leave. I suggest you take it.”

 

He wasn’t trying to be an ass, really, but he was living proof that being Spider-Man wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and the kid who had been showing up to his crime scenes for the past two weeks deserved better. He had the kind of spark that Peter only faintly remembered and there was no way in hell he’d let himself be the one to snuff it out.

 

“Seriously man?” The kid protested, dutifully following Peter’s every step. “I’m tryin’ to help here.”

 

“Yeah. I noticed. And thanks but you can go now, I’ve kind of got a rampaging lizard man to deal with.” Without a single glance backwards Peter shot forward, swinging higher and higher through the air until he was back on Dr. Connor’s eye level. For nearly an hour Peter’s mind was on nothing more than fighting. His whole body ached as he came crashing down to the pavement, the Lizard finally falling in tandem. Together the pair of them lay, defeated, on the ground. Although, to no one’s surprise, Spider-Man got back up. Just like always.

 

“Spider-Man! Spider-Man!” Reporters clamoured over one another to get in a word from Spider-Man before he inevitably disappeared again. He’d barely finished webbing the Lizard in place before a microphone was being shoved into his face.

 

“Spider-Man, what is your opinion on Spider-Man copycats? And can you elaborate on why you have decided to mentor this one in particular?”

 

“My opinion on-? Mentor? Wait… what?” Peter turned on the spot only to find the kid standing a mere two meters away. From the way everyone was looking at him it was clear he must’ve done something throughout that fight, maybe just leading citizens back to safety, at the very least he hadn’t been up on webs with Peter, that’s for sure. Everything about his body language told Peter he was embarrassed at the sudden attention but he refused to back down even as Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

 

“For the record,” he said back into the microphone, trying to ignore the way every reporter jumped to attention because it had been months since Spider-Man’s last official statement, “I don’t condone copycats. No matter what it looks like, this is _not_ a fun business to get into. Half the guys out there have no powers, no skills, nothing but a homemade cosplay. Spider-Man would never want citizens putting themselves in danger alright? Trust me, it’s not worth it.” The reporters seemed to be nodding eagerly, desperately trying to encourage him to keep talking. After all, New York missed hearing from their favourite hero. “And as for the kid? I am not exactly mentor material guys. He’s just tagging along for now but he’ll be _going home soon right?”_ He didn’t bother to hide the way his voice hardened when he addressed the kid who just stood there.

 

“Alright that’s enough from me,” Peter said, ignoring the cries for him to answer more questions, “I just saw a good looking burger joint that is calling my name. See y’all around.”

 

As he swung away again he couldn’t help the way his whole body told him to turn around. It wanted him to go back there, to help the kid out. Maybe show him the ropes a bit. Or at the very least actually convince him to go out and do literally anything that wasn’t being a Spider-Man. But when he cast one final look back at the scene he’d just left there was no Spider-Man down there, just a bunch of very confused reporters looking at where he’d been not ten seconds ago.

 

It was strange the next morning when Peter felt himself jerk to consciousness immediately. His hands reached out to fumble across the bedside table until he smashed the alarm button, breaking it in half. He was going to have to buy another one of those. Again.

 

The strangeness stayed with him throughout the morning. He was oddly alert. The city thrummed with its usual energy but for once Peter felt like he was a part of it, not seperate, not an other.  Spider-Man swinging through the streets was exactly how life was meant to be.

 

He still couldn’t figure out what was putting him in a mood. It wasn’t exactly a good mood. But it wasn’t bad. He was… optimistic? Yes. Optimistic that something would happen that day and it might not even be terrible.

 

Once again it was a scream that caught his attention, some lady who had just witnessed a group of men storming into a bank armed to the teeth.

 

Peter sighed but made his way into the building, his feet and hands moving noiselessly across the ceiling.

 

“I bet you were all _banking_ on me not showing up huh?” He asked when they turned to leave with bags full of cash. It wasn’t until he was midair through knocking one of them out that he realised just how long it had been since he last made a dumb pun at a villain.

 

His fist connected with a man’s stomach right at the same time a small giggle could be heard behind him. Peter barely needed to roll his eyes in exasperation before the kid was jumping down from the same window Peter had just entered.

 

Peter never stopped fighting but in his oddly alert state that day he was able to keep an eye on the kid. He watched the way he leapt blindly into the fight, his arms swinging wide.

 

Peter finished sweeping a guy’s legs out from under him before leaping towards the kid. The small Spider-Man was struggling to actually land a hit on a larger man who danced away with surprising grace.

 

Teeth gritted, Peter stepped forward and nudged the kid’s elbow until it was in line with his body allowing him to actually move fluidly without flailing his limbs about. The kid nodded in concentration and, with his newly corrected posture, actually managed to snag the man in the chest with his hit.

 

Peter whistles softly in surprise when the man flew across the room. Guess the kid really could pack a punch, huh.

 

The fight carried on for barely five more minutes but in that time Peter found himself calling out to the kid.

 

“Widen your stance.”

 

“Don’t aim for the head like that.”

 

“Keep your knees bent.”

 

With every word he said the kid turned to him, his grin evident through the gaping holes in his cheap mask. His whole face wasn’t even covered. Of course it wasn’t.

 

Each time he received one of those blinding smiles Peter found himself turning away, concentrating solely on the fight because he was not encouraging the child. Really. The only possible reason he had for telling him what to do was because Peter was _not_ in the mood to start feeling all guilty for letting a kid get hurt in his watch.

 

Eventually the police showed up, as they were supposed to some time ago, but the two Spiders had taken out all the robbers. With a nod at the police captain Peter bounded away from the scene.

 

He couldn’t be sure but he thought he heard the kid say “thanks” right before he too ducked away.

 

-

 

Over the next few  weeks Peter found himself alert more often than not. He wasn’t happy or anything, He still couldn’t find it in him to call MJ or anything, and the criminals certainly didn’t seem to take a break.

 

But he was alert. He woke up without having to smash his alarm clock to pieces and some days he even ate a vegetable or two. It was progress.

 

Progress from what and to where he didn’t know. But… it was kind of nice.

 

The kid still hadn’t left. After two months since his first appearance the boy still refused to listen to Peter’s warnings and kept showing up to crime scenes.

 

Eventually Peter had stopped bothering to tell him to go home. He just grunted in disappointment when he saw the kid show up again but he still kept his eyes on him.

 

The other Spider-Man was still not good exactly. But if Peter did ever shout out a tip or suggestion he knew for sure that the boy would show up at their next fight having practiced that move to perfection.

 

“Hey Spider-Man?”

 

Peter halted in surprise, he was midway through climbing out a window when he heard the kid’s voice behind him. To his surprise he found he’d actually gotten used to his presence. He’d come to expect the kid to show up a few minutes late but he’d stay to the end of the fight and nod at Peter before scampering off. Now Peter didn’t really know what to do that the kid was talking to him.

 

“Uh, yeah?”

 

“Thanks,” the boy scuffed his sneakers against the floor, “for helping me out back there. And, like, all the other times.”

 

Peter paused. He could ignore it. He could just finish climbing out that window and away from any sense of responsibility this kid was unknowingly throwing at him. Or, he sighed deeply, he could grow up and acknowledge the way the kid had wormed into his life as Spider-Man.

 

“It’s alright kid. You did good.”

 

Other Spider-Man beamed at him. His eyes crinkling behind his mask.

 

“One thing though.”

 

His smile instantly dropped at the seriousness of Peter’s voice. Really? Was it that easy to mess with this kid?

 

“We’re getting you a better costume than that. Spider-Man doesn’t wear his own merch.”

 

The boy seemed to halt, frozen in place as he processed Peter’s words. He could almost see his thoughts as they came to him. First there was the way his eyes widened in disbelief that Peter had been joking. Then, they blinked rapidly at Peter’s critique of his outfit. And finally they squinted, peering at him while the boy tried to figure out if Peter was not only offering to help, but if he was seriously calling them “we” like they were actually a pair.

 

At last, after an almost uncomfortably long silence, the new Spider-Man cheered. A smile tugged at Peter’s lip as he watched the boy fist pump and literally run up the walls in excitement.

 

The smile was immediately replaced with a resigned groan when it became obvious that Peter’s mere acknowledgment of the young Spider’s existence meant that every snarky, naive and excited comment he’d been holding back was let free. Without Peter’s surly dismissal of him, it turns out the new Spider-Man had a hell of a lot to say.

 

-

 

“What’s with the bag?”

 

Peter ignored him, instead sitting down at the edge of the rooftop with a thump. The other Spider dropped down too, mimicking his movements with earnest enthusiasm.

 

As he rooted through the bag in his hand peter vaguely wondered why the Spider Kid had stuck around. He himself had cheerfully told Peter “you’re kind of a terrible teacher yknow”. But he came back. Every time.

 

“Aha!” Peter declared, pulling his burger free of the bag’s confines and unwrapping it with a pleased sigh.

 

Spider Kid scrunched his nose up at the sight but sat patiently while Peter inhaled his breakfast. Or lunch. Maybe dinner? He forgot what meal he was up to that day.

 

“So?”

 

“So what?” Peter mirrored around a mouthful of cheese.

 

“What else is in there?” The kid gestured at the bag still perched precariously close to the edge. Peter nudged it slightly towards him with his hip.

 

“Check it out yourself.”

 

Warily, the boy pulled the material towards him digging his hand inside until his hand clasped around something and as he drew it out Peter could just about see his heart stop.

 

“No way,” he whispered to himself, dragging the rest of the suit out in one clean sweep. “No way. Is this a Spider-Man suit? A real one?” Peter nodded absently. “Are you… are you giving it to me?”

 

Another nod.

 

Peter was just about to take a bite of the last of his burger when he felt skinny arms clasp around his chest. He looked down in shock only to see Spider-Man hugging him tightly. His eyes yet again scrunched up in pure joy.

 

For a moment he simply sat there. Waiting to check if this was really happily before dragging an arm out of the kid’s grasp so he could tuck it carefully around the younger boy. He grumbled half heartedly, more out of habit than anything, but the kid only laughed. Apparently he was well aware that Peter was secretly and slowly learning to love the kid. Even if he was still a pain in the ass sometimes.

 

“Alright that’s enough kid. Go. Be free.” He shooed him back so he could finally finish eating. “And y’know,” half chewed food dropping from his mouth as he spoke “you gotta learn to sew, bud. Learning how to make that suit the way it is took a long time alright? And you’re a munchkin who’s gonna have to figure out how make it your size. Cut it up. Change it up. I don’t care. But whatever you do I’m sure it’ll be better than your little costume right now.”

 

The kid continued to gaze lovingly at the suit clasped between his fingers. He spared a second to begrudge Peter for calling him a munchkin but was immediately back to turning the fabric over in his hands, no doubt with a half dozen new ideas popping up for what he should do to make the suit his own.

 

“Thank you.” He said quietly. A hushed whisper that Peter almost didn’t hear. But he did. So, as he stood up and brushed crumbs off his lap he was sure to pat the kid on the shoulder, a sign of solidarity and a kind of thanks of his own.

 

“But seriously man,” his voice suddenly reproachful again, “did you _have_ to put my new suit next to your lunch? It’s got mustard all over it now.”

 

-

 

A gasp rippled through the crowd the moment that Peter felt himself crash into a brick wall. The building crumpled slightly under the force of his impact.

 

With a quiet groan Peter detached himself from the wall, letting the dust and debris settle around him. Small pops and cracks could be heard as Spider-Man stretched out his back and arms, looking for all the world like a man without a care. Like the Scorpion hadn’t just flung him halfway down fifth avenue with one ludicrously overpowered hit.

 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to play nice with others?” Peter called out, walking across stray brickwork and shattered pavement with a serene look and near perfect balance.

 

Scorpion growled, which Peter thought was a weird thing for scorpions in general to do but nonetheless that’s what happened.

 

“You think you funny little bug?” He asked, accent thick and garbled due to the stream of blood running from his lip. Peter was pretty proud of getting that hit in, even if it cost him one in return.

 

“Yeah I think I do,” he said, a tiny bubble of pleasure warming his chest at the sound of scattered chuckles from his audience. Slowly but surely he had found himself getting back into the swing of things. He was making jokes and quips and holding conversations as he fought. He’d somehow forgotten how much he enjoyed the performance of being Spider-Man. He was New York’s favourite hero because he actually engaged with everyone. How had he let that stop?

 

Why was he starting again?

 

“Man, you guys are having a party and no one invited me?”

 

Peter grinned ruefully beneath his mask. He’d almost been wondering where his little side kick had gone. It had been a whole week since Peter had handed over the suit and he hadn’t seen a glimpse of the boy since. To his surprise, he felt actual relief coursing through him at the familiar sound of the kid behind him.

 

“After I got all dressed up and everything.”

 

Peter snuck a glance to the right when the voice moved closer to him until the Spider-Men were standing side by side.

 

For a second or two Peter simply gaped, his eyes tracing the lean figure all decked out in black. Marks of spray paint splattered around his fingers and feet clashing the iconic Spider-Man red with the dark black of the new Spider-Man. Peter couldn’t help but appreciatively eye the new spider symbol scrawled on his chest. It was very… him.

 

“Nice suit Spider-Man.” Peter said, genuinely impressed by the kid’s artistry.

 

He beamed back at him, and Peter could almost imagine his eyes scrunching up the way they did when he could see behind the flimsy mask from before. But now he simply saw the lenses curve up in tandem with Spider-Man’s expression.

 

“Thanks Spider-Man.”

 

“The bug has a little amigo eh?” Scorpion crowed.

 

Right. Still fighting a bad guy.

 

“Shall we, Spider-Man?” Peter asked, flourishing his arm out in an exaggerated gesture and bowing deeply before him companion.

 

“Why I believe we shall, Spider-Man,” the boy responded, in an equally dramatic falsetto.

 

Then as one they turned, webs shooting forwards as the two Spiders entered the fray once more. Together.


	3. Chapter 3

Two years.

 

It had been two years since he’d run away from the best thing, the best _person_ , in his life.

 

Really, it had been two years since he had run away from his whole world.

 

Peter grunted unenthusiastically and rolled back over so his face was pressed into the pillows so he wouldn’t have to deal with either sunlight or reality.

 

On the two year anniversary of your divorce with the most fantastic woman on the planet you deserve to spend the day in bed sulking, Peter decided.

 

Apparently the rest of the world didn’t share his sentiment though, as no sooner had he stopped crying silently than the blaring sirens of a police car shot past his window. Without hesitating he found himself reaching for the suit, still crumpled up on the floor where he’d shed it the night before.

 

It was odd, Peter thought as he climbed to the rooftop. He could remember after the divorce, barely, everything was hazy and tear stained but he distinctly recalled putting on the suit and throwing himself into any and all dangerous fights he could find. Never before had people been so sure Spider-Man was going to kill himself someday soon than when he had practically told the Vulture to just ‘finish the job’. But then when the needless danger didn’t incite Peter into feeling… well, anything, he’d stopped caring. Spider-Man wasn’t his passion, not really, not after all those years. It sure as hell wasn't a job if his bank account had anything to say about it. But it was his duty.

 

Yes. Duty was what forced him to pull on the stupidly bright and colourful spandex and risk his life over and over and over for a city that never did figure out what was wrong with their hero. Oh, they loved him, sure, but they couldn’t help.

 

But now…

 

Peter was already chasing the perp down the street by the time his thoughts had caught up to his actions.

 

Now he was out there again. Spider-Man wasn’t a chore; it was an instinct. He didn’t have to question himself as he cut through and alley and rounded a corner just to trap the same guy he’d been yards behind only seconds ago. This was what he was made for. This is who he was.

 

“Aw man,” came a voice from above. Peter glanced up to see the kid sticking to the wall, his hands on his knees as he bent over perpendicular to the building and struggled to catch his breath. “I really thought I’d make it in time.”

 

Peter chuckled half heartedly. “You were close kid, but I think I can handle one guy trying to rob a bodega.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“Then why is he running away?”

 

“He’s not run-” Peter whirled on the spot only to find his perp hobbling down the alley way, his left leg encased in webbing but the rest of him entirely free. “Damnit.”

 

The Spider-Men found themselves racing after him in seconds. Peter shot another two webs but missed both times. The other Spider-Man spared him a curious glance but said nothing as he tackled the man, webbing him up tightly.

 

“Guess you’re getting slow in your old age huh?” He teased “and your aim is off. Sure you don’t need to go to a doctor? See if you need your spectacles?”

 

Peter hummed noncommittally. Damn. He had almost thought the kid’s endless enthusiasm might rub off on him. But he felt nothing more than a familiar bone aching tiredness. He barely made it to the nearest rooftop before collapsing down, his hands dragging over his masked face.

 

“Oh hey, are you, like, actually okay?” Spider-Man asked, gently coming to a halt when he saw peter wasn’t rubbing him back. “You wanna talk about it man?”

 

“Talk about what?”

 

“Uh, whatever is making you like-” Spider-Man paused uncertainly before simply gesturing to all of Peter and the way he was currently sprawled across a rooftop in despair and self pity “all that.”

 

Peter opened one eye just so he could glare at the kid. To his surprise though Spider-Man didn’t wilt away as expected. He sat there and he stared right back at Peter waiting patiently.

 

Weird. Peter could remember when the boy could barely stand to be in the same room as Peter when he used to try and send him home at the beginning. Apparently Spider-Man had gotten far too used to, and comfortable around, Peter to be intimidated by something as small as a simple glare.

 

“It’s my anniversary.” He said after some time. The words slipping out before he could think about dangers of his secret identity or even why it was he felt like he could trust this kid with his pain.

 

“Oh, congrats?” Spider-Man said, clearly unsure why that was making Spider-Man sad.

 

“Of my divorce.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Biggest mistake of my life kid. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me and I pushed her away.” At that point Peter honestly felt like he wasn’t talking to Spider-Man. He might’ve felt more like he was just talking to a friend if he thought about it for long enough. But really he was talking to the universe. Hoping it would send him a sign or give him a clue for what the hell he should do. “I miss her every day.”

 

“Did you tell her that?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You. Tell her. That you miss her.”

 

“Nah. It wouldn’t be fair on her. I’m the one that ruined everything in the first place. She doesn’t need me crashing into her life anymore. What she deserves is someone who isn’t a damn coward. And that’s all I am.”

 

Spider-Man hummed thoughtfully. “Right now? Yeah.”

 

Peter looked at him sharply but Spider-Man simply shrugged. “What do you want me to say man? You _are_ being a coward.”

 

“I don’t think I asked y-”

 

“Doesn’t matter Spidey. You love this woman and I’m guessing that if she married you, then she loved you too. Something happened and you got scared which is fine, that happens to everyone. _But,_  you ran away.” Spider-Man leaned forward his gaze never wavering from Peter’s even through the two masks. “You’re Spider-Man. And you ran away. You want her to know that you love her? Then tell her. Talk to her like a grown up, because right now all you’ve done is run off to play dress up and avoid her.”

 

The sounds of the city filled the air as quiet stretched between them.

 

“How’d you get to be so smart for a kid?” Peter eventually found himself asking with a small smile.

 

“All Spider-Men are naturally brilliant.” He declared, before cheekily nudging Peter with his foot, “sometimes some of us just forget it.”

 

“Alright. Alright.” Peter heaved himself up, nerves and determination swirling uncomfortably in his stomach. “I guess I’ve got a job to do now.”

 

The young Spider grinned, pleased at his good work and jumped up beside Peter “good luck!” And with that he vanished causing Peter to jump back in surprise. The boy’s cheerful laugh danced off into the depths of the city.

 

-

 

The people of New York may have wondered why their beloved Spider-Man pulled their newest Spider into a bone crushing hug immediately after their next fight. And if any of them had happened to be close enough to overhear, they might have heard the elder whispering his thanks and repeating over and over that “She said we’ll try again.”

 

-

 

“Way to go Spider-Man!” Peter called, a laugh bubbling in his chest even as he slammed his foot into Tombstone’s chest. Spider-Man shot him a quick thumbs up before pushing Fisk back down to the ground where he had just swept the man’s legs out from under him.

 

Peter let his attention drift away from the younger Spider who he was stupidly pleased to see was doing just fine taking on Fisk. After watching the move the kid had just pulled Peter felt noting but certainty that he’d be fine.

 

Tombstone growled, swiping a hand out to try and catch Peter off guard. In response he simply danced out of the way, surprised to see himself using the footwork that the Spider Kid had been showing him on a rooftop weeks ago. They’d just finished stopping a bank robbery and in what seemed to be a new habit of their’s the two Spiders simply relocated to a new hiding spot as they stared out over the city. Peter had found himself slowly opening up to the kid, sharing stories about the most absurd villains he’d ever faced.

 

Spider-Man had almost fallen off the building he was laughing so hard as Peter recounted a time he’d genuinely had to inform an eight year old girl that he wasn’t going to fight her, and that no, it wasn’t because her super villain name was “Magical Princess Best Fighter Ever” and he was too scared to lose to her.

 

In return for his Spider-Manning tales the kid made it his person mission to stop Peter acting “so damn old” and lighten up.

 

“You’re not looking so hot Spider,” Tombstone taunted when Peter deflected yet another punch “you think you and your sidekick can beat us?”

 

“Me? Not looking hot? That’s not nice dude. And to think I was about to call you drop dead gorgeous.” Peter laughed at his own joke “get it? Because your name is Tombstone? And drop dead?” He mimed wiping away a tear of laughter off his mask.

 

Tombstone simply scowled even deeper and redoubled his efforts to take Spider-Man out.

 

“Hey Spider-Man?” The kid called.

 

“Yeah Spider-Man?” Peter replied, a grin tugging at his face as Tombstone actually took a second to roll his eyes at their antics. Really, who knew it infuriated villains so much when two Spider-Men constantly referred to each other by the same name? And who could’ve guessed that they would both find that to be utterly hilarious and abuse it in every fight they ever got into?

 

(Everyone could’ve guessed that second one. Everyone.)

 

“Got a minute?”

 

Peter snuck a glance to see Fisk bearing down on the kid. Spider-Man’s arms were beginning to shake slightly under the pressure of trying to hold an enraged refrigerator of a man back.

 

He sighed then, having decided he was done playing with Tombstone and simply clocked the guy in the face, knocking him out in one hit.

 

Peter shot a web, latching it onto Fisk’s back and yanking him away from Spider-Man who took a second to put his hands on his knees and catch his breath.

 

Meanwhile Fisk had decided Peter was in fact a fun new target. Yay.

 

“Finally, the real Spider-Man. You done letting me throw your little toy around?”

 

“Y’know Fisk, the fun thing about names is that more than one person can have them. So hi,” he stuck his hand out as though to shake hands with Fisk but instead shot a web right into the man’s face, “nice to meet you. I’m Spider-Man. And to your left you’ll see my friend, Spider-Man.”

 

Fisk roared, though the noise was garbled by the web still stuck across his mouth. He turned around only to find the young Spider standing right by his side.

 

Spider-Man lifted up a hand, ducking his head before peering up at Fisk, his voice low as he touched the man’s shoulder, “Hey.”

 

Fisk flew across the street, his body shuddering against the streams of electricity Spider-Man had just shot into his body.

 

“Nice work bud,” Peter said, the two villains already webbed up and police sirens quickly closing in on their location, “I’m proud of you.”

 

Little Spider-Man beamed up at Peter, ignoring his offered fist bump and instead pulling him into a hug. Peter laughed in surprise but hugged him back.

 

“What was that for?”

 

“I’m just... I’m really glad you’re happy now.”

 

“Now?”

 

“Yeah,” Spider-Man scuffed his sneakers against the ground awkwardly, “when I first started being Spider-Man you always seemed, I dunno, kind of miserable? Like all the time? But it’s different now. I mean, you just let me fight Fisk. In person. And you were barely even supervising me.”

 

“Of course I did kid. I trust you. I’ve seen how much work you’ve put into being Spider-Man. At this point you don’t even really need me anymore.”

 

Little Spider-Man glanced at him, his mask unreadable. “But I like having you around, you’re a good guy Spider-Man.”

 

Before Peter could think of a response the kid vanished. Somehow Peter still ended up leaving the scene with a small smile on his lips. Entirely unaware of just how long it had been since that had been his natural behaviour.

  


-

  


“No really MJ, I’m telling you, he looked like a fridge.”

 

“He’s just a man Peter.”

 

“But a refrigerator version.”

 

“Man.”

 

“Kitchenware.”

 

Peter’s heart fluttered in his chest when he glimpsed MJ struggling to hide her smile. He bumped into her affectionately, almost nocking her off the park’s pathway. She huffed indignantly before shoving him back.

 

He let himself be pushed around, their little game continuing all the way through their walk. How he’d ever gotten her back was nothing short of a mystery to him. Although he was sure it was probably the kid’s fault. Stupid kid and his incredibly kind if somewhat blunt demands to make Peter go talk to his wife. His wife. He could call her that again.

 

Peter found himself beaming down at her, watching the way she tucked a crimson strand of hair behind her ear. She peered at him, a confused smile on her face.

 

“What’re you looking at?”

 

“You.” Peter breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

 

MJ smiled again, deeper this time. So deep and gorgeous that Peter felt he could fall in love with her over and over for eternity and it would never be enough.

 

“Stop staring you dork,” she said eventually, nudging him again.

 

They both seemed to realise at the exact same time that her nudge had been far stronger than expected and because Peter was so relaxed he hadn’t even bothered to brace himself. Which is how he found himself tripping over his own feet and stumbling right into a teenager walking the other way.

 

The pair of them corrected their falls at the last second.

 

In synchrony their eyes met. Peter’s tired but happy ones meeting the teen’s bright and curious gaze. Then, at the same time the pair felt a small tingle in the back of their necks and both pairs of eyes widened in shock.

 

Peter recovered first. He took in the teen, the headphones slung around his neck, paint stained fingers and the spray can sticking out of his backpack.

 

In return he looked at Peter, the deep lines of his face contrasted by the happiness that laced his smile. His arm still tucked firmly into the arms of a woman with bright red hair who was staring curiously at the two of them.

 

Straightening his shoulders and smiling crookedly the teen stuck his hand out. “I’m Miles Morales.” Peter gripping the proferred hand. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

 

“Peter Parker,” He replied easily, the smile never leaving his face “and the honour is all mine.”


End file.
